The Icemark Chronicles (1) - The Yule Ball
by ofbooksandpages
Summary: Oskan escorts Thirrin down to the Yule Ball after the Great Battle, but becomes jealous as suitors surround her. The Icemark Chronicles belong to Stuart Hill.


Oskan nervously stood outside Thirrin's door. As one of her chief advisors, he had the duty of escorting her into the ball. Of course Maggie could just as easily have taken his place, but the little man had refused claiming old age. Oskan privately believed he just wanted an early start into the sherry he so loved. Voices emerged from beyond the door.

"Gertie, I can't go out wearing this dress!" That was Thirrin, Oskan realized, his heart begin to beat a slight bit faster.

"Nonsense highness, you are a woman and the Queen. It is time you asserted yourself off the battlefield as well." Thirrin's loyal maid replied.

Thirrin muttered a noncommittal response and the door flew open. Oskan simply gaped. Thirrin was clad in a deep purple dress clashing beautifully with her fierce green eyes and blazing red hair. The neckline was so low Oskan couldn't help staring, and the rest of the dress clung perfectly to her hips before flaring out and landing in a shimmering puddle of fabric.

"Are you done repeating your performance from last year or should I fetch another servant to remind you to kindly close your mouth?" Thirrin's amused voice penetrated his thoughts and he belatedly remembered to bow.

"I…err…uhh…"

"I see. And who, pray tell is my substitute escort as you are so obviously incoherent today. Did Jenny kick you in the head?" She continued with feigned interest.

"You…look…beautiful." The words slipped out of Oskan's mouth before he could halt them and a crimson flush spread up Thirrin's neck making her look lovelier than ever.

"Ahh…thank you. Now are you here to escort me or not?" Thirrin slipped into her Queenly persona in an attempt to hide the fluttering feelings growing in her stomach. Oskan meekly held out his hand, also blushing furiously and cursing his stupidity inside his own head where no one could overhear.

Standing behind Thirrin on the dais after the feast was a stupid move really, Oskan thought later. He'd had to stand by and watch as a flurry of pompous idiots had paraded by to wish Thirrin a Merry Yule before remarking on how fine she was looking as of late. One in particular had irked him to the point where different methods of murder were crossing Oskan's mind. Strangulation…no too painless….chopping his head off….also too good for him….perhaps boiling him and feeding him to the Vampire King and Queen would suffice.

"My lady, our lands are doing particularly well, our people prosper now that the threat of the Polypontions has been averted. The stories of you are almost legendary. In fact one might almost believe them to be true! I would like to meet the head general very much and commend his cunning strategy as well as perhaps give a few pointers to aid in the next war! The fellow's mind deserves some rest!" Raythor the son of Baron Montgrave was an insufferable peacock. To Oskan's absolute glee Thirrin's face hardened almost imperceptibly. It meant she was furious.

"The general? Of what army Lord Raythor?" Thirrin asked innocently.

"Why the commander of the Icemark's finest troops! The one who led us to victory against that scoundrel Scipio Bellorum!" Raythor's confident voice began to falter in confusion. Oskan smiled to himself as Thirrin leaned in for the kill.

"Pray tell, is the Goddess male?" His confusion evident Raythor stuttered, "Of course not. She is supreme, the Goddess is female."

"Then why must men insist on depicting females as the weaker sex? Why do they insist on discrediting stories that tell of women braver than men? As if women who do not simply do as they are told must be harlots and liars, hmm?"

"Highness, I never meant to imply…" Too late Raythor began to backpedal. It was no use.

"But you did. And that is why I must insist that you leave me now. Go woo some kitchen maid. Do not assume me stupid and easily manipulated, Raythor. I know you have designs on the throne, and I will be watching very closely for a hint of treasonous activity. Do anything to displease me, and I will set my warlock on you." Oskan grinned as Raythor gulped and peered behind Thirrin. Oskan allowed his power to swell, making his hair stand on end and flashing his sharp teeth at Raythor, coating him is a layer of power. Raythor would be uncomfortable for the next hour or so Oskan thought happily.

Thirrin sighed. "Why must they all focus on this stupid dress rather than the person inside it?"

Oskan grinned, "Maybe they can't tell the difference." Thirrin glared at him. He just smiled wider. Baron Montgrave approached the dais cautiously, pulling Raythor behind him.

"Your Highness, I believe my son insulted you and your military prowess, perhaps a diplomatic dance might be in order?" He murmured respectfully, while making it clear that a refusal would be a direct affront.

Thirrin smiled graciously, "Of course, I'm sure he meant no harm." Relieved Raythor walked up and offered her his arm, which she then took and glided of the stairs. Oskan watched her, eyes glittering with jealously as then spun around the floor. Maggie's voice startled him from behind, his southern lilt jolting Oskan back to himself.

"She looks absolutely stunning tonight, hmm? I wonder if a marriage between that Baron Montgrave's son and her might be in order. It would be quite an advantageous marriage, and the boy seems quite nice enough…." Oskan's mind began to spin as Maggies prattled on, his hackles rose as every one of Raythor's wonderful aspects was listed out for him. Could Thirrin be considering him? Not after she had snubbed him so ferociously. A small voice chimed in his head; she's dancing with him now isn't she? Her tinkling laugh sounded across the floor, filling him with fear.


End file.
